Heart
by loneguppy
Summary: Following Peter's recovery, he is returned, in time, to his parents. He grows up in his native universe, where lives struggles to survive crisis after crisis on a continuing basis. Unless a son can stop a father from walking a destructive path, and take another way. REVISED Summary.
1. Prelude

HEART

Summary: Following Peter's recovery, he is returned, in time, to his parents. He grows up in his native universe, where lives struggles to survive crisis after crisis on a continuing basis. Unless a son can stop a father from walking a destructive path, and take another way.

* * *

The moment Elizabeth had agreed to let Walter return the boy, he worked day and night in earnest to make it an actuality. He knew what it was like to lose a child and did not want to let the boy's parents experience further pain and suffering by his own hands. This was the right thing to do he told himself.

It had taken him less time to reconstruct the gateway to the other side than Walter had initially thought. He was able to salvage much of the components from the bottom of Reiden Lake, once the ice started to melt. He busied himself with making the device buoyant for the trip over, while Elizabeth nursed the boy back to good health.

After ten days in convalescence, Peter had grown thin. For that matter, so had Elizabeth after spending long hours by his bedside.

Elizabeth fed him split pea soup, on account Peter had expressed a dislike for most things vegetable. Of course pea was still a vegetable, but she had added ham, so it was different. If Elizabeth had to guess, he probably liked the texture of the soup. It pleased her when he would ask for seconds.

The day Walter sent Peter back, Elizabeth helped him get ready in the parlor of their beach home. She watched him put on one of Peter's old sweaters. The sleeves were a bit short for him. She had to buy him a new coat, because her son didn't have one that would fit him.

Elizabeth put a toque on his head. When she was done, her hand stayed on his cheek for a moment. She desperately wanted to take him in her arms, but fought against the urge. Instead she reached for his scarf. When they looked at each other again, Peter gave her a shy smile and brushed away a stray tear that had rolled down her face.

Walter waited for them at the lake, where he was free to work without anyone seeing. He stood next to a rowboat, while his machine floated on the surface of the lake.

He knelt down and spoke to Peter in a gentle tone.

"Remember what I showed you, boy?" Peter nodded. "Excellent." He then lifted him up and into the boat.

The boat started for the gateway, with his every stroke. The portal shimmered behind his head, as he rowed toward it. He paused briefly to give a wave to shore. Elizabeth barely had time to return the wave, before he was gone for good.

Walter put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He's going to be fine."


	2. Neither Here Nor There

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER:

_I will never forget. It has been twenty-five years since my son was taken by _them_. We were overjoyed to get him back safe and sound of course. Unfortunately, the damage was done. That was also when our world also began its downward spiral into its current state. The government had no defense for the disasters that befell us. They had no clue. When Elizabeth told me about the man who took my son, when she said that he was me, I knew what it had meant. As fantastic as it sounds, this was proof of a parallel Earth. I am not a religious man, but it has been foretold in the scriptures of a kingdom pitted against another kingdom. I alone bare the burden to save our world when I proposed to the world council the good the realm of science can do to prevent our world from further decay. As the head of the Department of Defense, we put in place strict protocols to eliminate any threats to the population. We had made sacrifices over the years. Lives were lost. The world does not know it yet that we are at war. Let them come. We have prepared ourselves for attack. We shall prevail._

* * *

It was cold for October. The wind was brisk for anyone on the streets. The citizenry walked about with their heads bowed down not daring to look up, not even in anticipation of the first snowfall. Up in the sky, the evening light cast an unnatural tint of ochre on the smog. Only skyscrapers were visible from this altitude. The airship descended again blocking much of the light in the sky. It hovered just above New York City. It circled the Empire State Building making a final approach to the docking station.

A bearded man waited as the customs official scanned his identification card.

"Welcome home, Mr. Bishop. Anything to declare?", she said to him with a flirty smile.

Peter Bishop returned it with twice the charm.

"Not this time, darling."

Peter boarded the elevator and descended the Empire State Building along with several other passengers from his flight. His mind was focused on the floor indicator when he felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down at the countenance of a little girl trying to get his attention.

"Mister, may I have your autograph?"

"Why certainly, sweetie."

She opened up her notebook for him to sign.

It never ceases to amaze Peter how people still recognized him for something that happened so long ago. He only had a vague memory of it himself. As his parents kept reminding him, he was a symbol of hope for all lost children. It was the only reason Peter Bishop stayed away from American soil for so many years. He really had no desire to be idolized or worshipped.

Peter made his way to the sidewalk. The streets were filled with more pedestrians than the last time he was here. He pushed through the throng to grab a Yellow Cab home. En route, he called his parents to let them know that he was back.

"Peter! It's good to hear your voice. When can we expect to see you again?"

He consulted his personal planner.

"I will see you both Saturday, Mother. Let Father know I called."

"Well, he's working late again, son. You should go see him if you can. I know he will be happy to see you."

Peter stroked his face. He had to shave first if he is to meet his father.

Back at his apartment, Peter rested for an hour before heading out to dinner.

The club his father frequented was a few blocks from his place. He decided that he would walk. The exercise would do him good. It wasn't long before he came upon a group of excited onlookers waiting to catch a glimpse of Elvis who was performing for the last time. He was in a hurry so he paid them no mind since they were on the other side of the street. However he did notice that Fringe Division had a presence here. Troopers were maintaining crowd control outside the theater.

Quite unexpectedly he felt the ground beneath his feet shake. Then he saw a woman rushed him from his right. She was shouting something incoherent. Then there was a flash of light. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back. He was a bit dazed but unscathed. He sat up and saw paramedics carrying the woman to a waiting ambulance.

In all the confusion, no one asked about his welfare, so he slipped away unnoticed and hurried on to his destination. He arrived at the club five minutes after eight. He quickly checked his reflection in a mirror and rubbed off the smudge on his face with a handkerchief. Seeing that nothing else was out of place, he made his way to his father's regular table by the end of the bar. This place was really a gentleman's club where the government's elites hung out. If you found yourself here, you had connections, just like he did. It was the only place where his father would go out for coffee.

The bar was particularly smokey tonight. Looks like someone was celebrating with a round of Cuban cigars. Peter wrinkled his nose at the smell. His father was arranging and rearranging his place setting, when he noticed Peter.

"Peter." That was his only acknowledgement.

"Father. Sorry I am late. There was an incident outside."

"Oh! Were you hurt?"

"No. Someone from Fringe Division saved me. A woman. Red hair down to here." He indicated somewhere below the shoulder.

"Ah. You must mean Olivia Dunham. Fine agent I am told." Peter took a mental note of her name.

A waiter served his father a plate of beef stew and mash. He turned to Peter to take his order.

"Sir, what can I get for you?"

"I will have a steak, medium rare, please."

"Very well, sir."

Displeased with his order, Walter stopped the waiter.

"He will have beef stew and mash as well." At Peter's perplexed look, he added, "We have to set an example for others."

"More rationing, Father? Are things really that bad?"

"Worse. Statistics are projecting a food shortage by 2012. Rationing is just the first step."

"You will be happy to know that I have secured mining rights in Columbia. Pretty soon we can replenish your amber reserves for another decade."

"Wonderful news."

When Peter's dinner arrived, they ate their dinner without further conversation. For the rest of the evening, all Peter could think about was that Fringe woman.


	3. Involuntary Captive

Deep in the bowels of the Department of Defense, there is a sign on a door marked RESTRICTED ACCESS. In the past twenty-five years, only one man has ever entered it. That man holds the most powerful position in this branch of the US military. Walter Bishop squinted one eye while staring into a hole in the wall. Then metallic stembolts could be heard retracting. The giant cog that served as a door rolled to reveal an opening into a large chamber. It rolled back into place once the sensors detected his entrance in the room.

He pulled a lever on the wall to illuminate the tank located in the center. This in turn activated the computers' vacuum tubes and circuitry adjacent to the tank. A lone figure can be seen suspended inside the tank. Walter noticed his eyelids were open almost immediately upon his approach, a response that told him that the man machine was online.

"Hello, Doctor Bell."

"Hello, Mr. Secretary," a voice boomed from the speakers.

Although, the features of the man machine did not change, Walter knew that this thing was somehow alive.

"How are you today?"

"I am fine. Thank you."

Walter continued to adjust more dials and pressed a series of buttons.

"Sir, do you wish me to perform an analysis?"

"Very astute old friend." He now turned to face Bell and spoke to him directly. "Given the available resources available until year 2012, please outline recommendations that will sustain the current population for the next two years."

In a matter of minutes, the man machine gave his answer. "I am sorry Walter. Only one option remains. Reduce the population by one half."

The Secretary slammed a fist on the console. _Damn it_. Despite recent measures to limit one child per family, the results have not changed. "There are millions in most urban centers alone."

"How do you propose to terminate the rest?"

"Terminate?"

* * *

Being the son of the Secretary of Defense meant that Peter Bishop had unlimited clearance at his disposal. He used his privileges to gain access to the law enforcement database to satisfy his curiosity. He looked up Agent Olivia Dunham's profile and found out where she lived. She was a government agent; what harm would it do to pay her a visit? For one thing, it's not everyday that you get to meet the person who saved your life.

What he did not count on was finding her in such a rough neighbourhood. Peter did not imagine a Fringe agent would be living in slum town. He was beginning to regret trading his bodyguard for a firearm. He kept a hand on the butt of his weapon just to be safe. There was plenty of lights from the city in the late afternoon, but somehow it seems darker here. Perhaps it had to do with the imposed curfew in this area of town. It did not take a genius to see that there were no lights anywhere along the streets.

Nightwatchmen were already on duty. Peter had to show his identification to two patrolmen. The determined look on his face dared them to question his very presence there. They let him pass without incident.

Peter arrived at the address. It was the front entrance of a diner. Dunham's place was behind the restaurant. Peter had to go around back and walk down a lane to get there. She had a basement apartment.

In her subconscious mind, it sounded like thunder, but in actuality, it was the knocking at her door that woke Olivia Dunham. She rubbed the bridge of her nose at the headache that was just beginning to go away. Opening her eyes to peer over at the chronometer, she noticed that there was still an hour before Frank would be home. Even if it was, Frank would not have used the front door. _Who could that be_? Bracing herself on one elbow, she eased herself up slowly from the sofa. She grimaced at the kinks in her neck. She should have just slept in bed.

Having peered through the peep hole, Olivia opened the door and kept it ajar.

"Agent Dunham, I am sorry to intrude. I am..."

This person standing there needed no introduction.

"I know who you are, Mr. Bishop."

"In that case, may I come in? I would like to personally thank you for saving my ass yesterday."

"It's not necessary. Really."

"I insist."

Olivia considered his request harmless enough and decided to let him in.

He walked over the threshold and held out a gift basket. Seeing her confused expression, he explained, "It's coffee."

"Ah! But I don't own a coffee maker."

He turned the package around to read the label. "That's OK. Says here, there is a percolator." Peter took a quick look around and headed for the kitchen. "Let me go and make us a pot."

While waiting for the kettle to boil, Peter could not help notice that there were two place settings on the table. It was obvious that Olivia Dunham did not live alone.

Olivia watched from the living room as Peter brought the coffee out and then went back to bring back two cups and a creamer.

"You know. I can't help notice your very modest pantry."

"Um. My mother likes to cook." Olivia poured herself a cup.

_Mother_. Peter found that hard to believe. He sat on the chair across from her. "Sugar?"

"Huh?" She seemed distracted.

"There is white or raw sugar for your coffee." He pointed at the gift basket.

"Oh. Cream is just fine." Peter poured cream into her cup. "Thanks."

She took a sip.

"So. What happened out there yesterday?"

"You know that Elvis disappeared for 40 years?" Peter nodded. "Well. We cornered the beast responsible yesterday. Ambered it right in the subway tunnel, but not before it stepped on the electrical line. That was what cause the spark that you felt."

"It knocked you out too." Peter indicated the large bruise on her forehead.

Olivia chuckled. With the tension between them melted away, they continued to talk until the coffee was gone. She listened as he told her where he's been in the last ten years.

TWO HOURS LATER:

Olivia checked the time again. This did not escape Peter's notice. "It's getting late. I think I should head on out." He replaced his cup on the coffee table.

Peter had started for the door and Olivia stood up as well to show him the way out, when she pulled him back in the last minute. "Wait."

Her expression changed to one of worry. He couldn't help but be concerned. "What is it?"

"Something is wrong. My friend Frank is late. He should have been home by now. He hasn't called or anything."

"Who? The guy you live with?" She nodded. "Why do you think something has happened to him?"

"I don't know. I just have this uneasy feelin'."

"He could just be delayed." When Peter noticed that this did nothing to reassure her, he put a hand on Olivia's shoulder.

"Where's your computer? I know some people."

"People?" Peter nodded. Olivia mustered up a smile then took him to her computer.

Peter logged in and was inundated with hundreds of e-mail. All the messages said the same thing. _Infirmities terminated! Population reduced by one third. Massive roundups happening now_.

A realization hit him. Olivia was wondering what made him stare at her now.

"Olivia, you are lame."

"What?"

"You are limping."

"Yeah. I know that. I hurt my leg, yesterday."

"Who else knows about your leg?"

"Um." Olivia thought for a moment. "The doctors and nurses at the hospital. Why?"

If there is a roundup, the authorities were probably for looking her. "Olivia. I have reasons to believe it's not safe for you here."

"What?"

[FRONT DOOR BANGING]

Peter started thinking on his feet. "Do you have another way out of here?"

Olivia understood his reasoning. "This way." Peter followed her into her bedroom, where she opened a panel in her closet to reveal a hidden passage way. _Interesting. Why would she need an escape route?_


	4. Run

Olivia backed out of the closet, closing the door gently, just as whoever was beating up her front door broke into her apartment. Before replacing the wall panel, she grabbed her jacket, checking to make sure her gun was still in the pocket. With Peter's help, she was able to reinforce the opening with sheet rock. She knew it would not stop their pursuers from finding the tunnel, but it will slow them down. And if Frank were to return, he will know that there was danger and hopefully keep away.

Peter noted that they were in a narrow tunnel just five feet high. He had to haunch to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling. He could see nothing beyond the darkness in either direction. What little illumination there was came through overhead grates, perhaps from the surface. It must have been moonlight since there were no street lighting in the immediate area. He saw Olivia orient herself and then point in a direction.

"I assume we are heading back to the city." Peter nodded. He followed as Olivia started to hobble onwards.

Every so often, Olivia paused to listen for footfall. They were not alone in the tunnels, that twisted, branched, and connected with the subway system. At the next junction, Olivia stopped and indicated the way out above them. Peter boosted her up so she can get a hold of the lowest rung of the ladder in the chute.

They emerged through a manhole, in a deserted alley. Peter climbed out first then reached down to pull Olivia out. She grunted from the effort. Their exit was relatively obscured by a nearby dumpster.

It was early evening. Here, the curfew was at midnight, so there was quite a lot of people still in the streets. On this night in particular, the scene was different from any other. There was civil unrest with demonstrators voicing outrage against the recent roundups.

There were plenty of shouts of suffering and sorrow from the speakers and responses of redemption and exaltation from the crowd. Peter led Olivia through the throng to lose themselves in the crowd. Through the sea of people was the way to Peter's apartment a few blocks away.

Thunder rumbled from overhead as it started to rain. Olivia pulled her jacket close to her, but felt the cold sting of the rain water. She kept her head low, so she didn't see a man bump into her. She backed up to look at the stranger. He was an odd man with thick spectacles. The fact he was standing in her path was already disconcerting. He just stood there towering over her. Then he spoke in a deep baritone. "Don't turn your eyes away from the fire. _It's everywhere_."

Peter turned around to see Olivia stopped at a street corner. "Hey. You OK?" She looked at him in confusion.

"There was a man."

"A man? What man?" Olivia couldn't see the man anymore.

To avoid being seen, they entered a drab looking building via the service entrance and arrived at Peter's floor using the service elevator. Once inside his unit, Olivia dragged herself over to the couch. When she tried to put her leg up, she winced.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't feel my leg."

"Let me see." Olivia pulled up her pant leg. "There is no swelling. It must be from the strain of walking. You should get some rest."

The next morning, Peter awoke at the first sign of daybreak. He pushed himself up from off the floor to check on Olivia. She was still asleep on his hideabed.

Olivia had had a bad night. Not only did her leg go numb, she had to come down with a fever too. How can she be on the run in this condition? Not without his help, that's for sure.

Unfortunately, Peter had to go home to see his parents. Before leaving, he refilled the humidifier and checked on Olivia again. She was recovering from a coughing fit.

"I won't be long. If anyone knows anything about these roundups, it's my father." He saw her pointing to her throat, then laughed. "OK. I'll find something for that too."

* * *

The Bishops always had family dinner promptly at six o'clock. Peter joined his father for an aperitif in the den. He swirled the port in his glass, staring at it through the fire in the hearth.

"Whatever happened to that girl you were seeing? Claudette?" Peter chuckled.

"It was Claudia. We broke up in Paris." He looked off wistfully. "She was heading for Siberia; I was not."

"Ah."

They both turned around when Mrs. Bishop called out from the kitchen. "Dinner is ready!"

Dinner was always a quiet occasion in the Bishop household, especially at home. Since Peter had been away for so long, they had a lot of catching up to do. His mother had many questions.

"How long will you be staying this time?"

"That depends?" Peter chewed on another piece of pork chop.

His father spoke next. "Have you consider taking up my offer?"

"Come work for you?"

Walter lit his pipe. "Yes. I could use your help."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Another piece of pie, dear?"

"Oh my. I couldn't. If I do, I'll have to let out my pants." Peter gave his full belly a pat, however he did have another cup of coffee though, before changing the topic of conversation.

"Why the roundups? People are scared. They are beginning to wonder who would be next."

Walter took a another puff of his pipe. "Extreme times requires extreme measures."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I am only doing my job to safeguard my people."

"These are people too."

"I know."

"What? Father, no!" On the way out the door, Peter could hear his mother shout for him to return and a chilling reminder from his father.

"I should warn you. We need to find them all. Including your new friend."

Peter picked up his pace and then ran the rest of the way to the transport station. How is he going to tell Olivia that she has been marked?

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to the late Mark Dailey. For those who didn't know him, he was the voice of CityTV, the channel where I watch Fringe.**


	5. Nowhere Safe

_Extreme times requires extreme measures._

These were not just a phrase. It was his father's favorite motto.

* * *

_My father was a good man. He was a man of science. Dedicated. Meticulous. Kind-hearted. There had been a time when he would not even harm a fly. He had taught me to cherish any life as if it were my own. But something happened to him, something so horrible that it changed him overnight. Twisted. I have never admitted to anyone how much his transformation had frightened me. I was a mere boy then. Today, Walter Bishop was a fighter. Everyday, he fought against an invisible enemy in his personal crusade. It was a losing battle, one which he will never concede defeat to. I have seen first hand the results of his mercurial belligerence. No one was safe. No place was safe to hide. No matter how much I disagree with his policies, all I could ever do was turn a blind eye to the suffering. So much so, I think I have callus where my compassion should have been. Up until now, the victims of these plights have been nameless souls. My recent experience has shown me that I have to take responsibility for humanity. And that began with Olivia._

* * *

Peter had no doubt in his mind that his father would make good on his threat. He just couldn't believe his luck would run out so soon though. They must have taken Olivia minutes ago. He ran his hand over the sheets. The linen was still warm to the touch. Peter barely had time to feel guilty for abandoning her, when he became startled by the whoosh of a flush coming from behind.

Seeing Olivia emerge from the lavatory caught him emotionally off-guard. Peter had never been so relieved to see a person before.

She was OK, but one look of her face told him that she was still far from well.

"It's c-cold."

Olivia tightened the blanket around her, making her look like a cocoon. She kept one hand on her head as she took unsteady steps in her stocking feet.

Peter quickly recomposed himself to help her lie down before she fell down.

She eyed Peter with curiosity as he tucked her under another blanket. His somewhat silent demeanour was cause enough for concern.

"What's wrong?" Olivia sat up when he hesitated. "What is it?"

Foregoing an exposition, Peter got right to the point. He owed it to her to be completely honest.

"Olivia, we can't stay here."

There was no need to pussyfoot around the issue. They had nowhere to go. Except one thing was for certain. Olivia will freeze out there.

Peter watched her put on one of his sweaters. It was large for him; it looked even bigger on her. The edge of it ended somewhere below the seat of her pants so he knows it will keep her warm. She tugged a bit on the sleeves to make them stay put.

Peter followed by putting a wool cap on her head. When he was done, his hand lightly brushed against her fevered cheek. He looked at his hand, then at Olivia and back at his hand again. That touch was oddly familiar. It triggered a vague realization that someone, somewhere, had done this for him before. Although the memory was so fleeting that he lost the sense of deja vu, a gut feeling remained that gave him an idea.

"Ready?" She nodded after she zipped up the overcoat he loaned her.

"Where are we going?"

"Some place I hope my father would least expect me to go." With that, Peter ushered Olivia out the door. "Come on."


	6. Over There Again

He thought she said something.

"Dunham?"

Peter looked over at the passenger side of the car. Olivia did not hear what he was saying. She had been sleeping fretfully since their Packard left the city limits. He could tell that she was having a nightmare. He even considered waking her up, but thought against it. Reality was probably not any better than a mere dream.

_Yet in that dream, a fire burns still for the girl who began to see the light._

The headache came back, with more intensity this time. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut as the pulsing began.

People panicked. Many had already left the city in desperation. It had been a relief when they had made it through the various police checkpoints. The thought to tell someone did cross his mind, but then who would believe him. If they got wind of what he knew, they might arrest him on the spot for sedition. The Department of Defense had absolute control over the authorities. They were naturally loyal to The Secretary. He can't shake the feeling that they were allowed to leave without incident. Either way Peter would not be lured by a false sense of security. For Olivia's sake, he vouched to remain vigilant right up until the end.

He called her name again. A bit louder this time. It woke her.

"What is this place?"

"The family summer home."

It wasn't the house she was referring to. Without knowing why, Olivia walked off into the dark.

_The fire calls the girl like whispers in the wind._

"Olivia?"

Peter took off after her.

He was tripping over the brush, but she had a better handle on the terrain than he did.

Olivia stopped right at the edge of Reiden Lake, a little too close for comfort. Fearing that she would fall into the water, Peter ventured closer. When she didn't respond to his call, he quickly pulled her away.

"Hey!"

He shook Olivia until she came out of her stupor. When she did, she turned towards the lake and pointed somewhere out there.

"Light."

"What?"

"On the water."

Peter looked out at the spot. It triggered yet another familiar memory. He already had a strange yearning to come back here. It must have been a sign or an omen. It's all the things he didn't believe in. With Olivia pointing the way, it was more than just a coincidence. He snapped his fingers.

"C'mon."

Olivia followed Peter to the boat house.

Inside were two identical rowboats. Peter hauled one out to the water. Without another word, he hopped in and started to row in the general direction of Olivia's _light_.

"Bishop!"

He heard her calling him so he paused and shouted.

"It's OK! I know what I'm doing!"

Neither of them could have foreseen what happened next. Olivia was intent on watching the light envelop the tiny boat; she failed to notice a presence in the surrounding area. On Peter's tenth stroke, he witnessed the scene change. In a split second, Olivia was no longer standing there. Had he been there a little longer, he would have warned her of danger. But he was gone by that time and did not see her fall into the frigid waters.

By all appearances, it was the same lake. He looked and _their_ house was there too. Before he knew it, Peter had reached the other end of the lake. Abandoning the boat, he approached the house with caution.

There was light inside, suggesting someone was home. Until he could ascertain whether it was friend or foe, Peter stayed near the shadows.

Watching from a window, Peter saw a woman walk into the room. He didn't get a good look at her face until she sat down.

_Mother._

She wore her hair differently, but it was definitely her or the other one he remembered from twenty-five years ago. He had to find out for sure.

Peter smoothed his hair while he waited for the woman to open the door. When she finally appeared before him, he adapted a cordial tone of voice so as not to alarm her.

"Elizabeth Bishop?"

Who was this stranger who knew her name, she wondered. She squinted at him through her bifocals. He seemed oddly familiar.

"Yes?"

"Good evening, ma'am. My name is Peter. Peter Bishop."

Elizabeth stifled a cry of joy with one hand over her mouth.

"Peter!" she gasped, "He always said you'd come back."

Soon Peter felt her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a warm embrace.


	7. They Look the Same

The gentle sinking motion was oddly comforting. As Olivia felt herself drift even deeper into the murky darkness, she could almost see Frank's beautiful face once again. Despite what one might think, this was not the end for her. The cold air forced into her lungs pulled her from the brink and brought back the events of the last few minutes like a cascading waterfall. Olivia had not notice the troopers until they were almost on top of her. Losing equilibrium at the edge of the water, she instinctively held her breath before tumbling head first.

Olivia's body could not stop shivering when they dragged her out. Before blacking out, she lifted her head up to look for some sign of Peter, but by then the light was already _gone_.

* * *

Closing his eyes, Peter allowed Elizabeth's embrace to linger for a moment longer. He knew she was not his mother, but she smelled like her and felt like her. Besides he owed it to her for the fond memories of split pea soup. The woman was on the verge of an emotional outburst. She began to tremble in his arms. Peter tightened his hold on her until she stopped shaking.

Elizabeth's hand remained on his, while they waited for Walter Bishop. They sat in companionable silence by the time he came home. She went to the door eagerly to greet her husband. Brushing away the newly fallen snow from his shoulders, she then took his hat and the coat he shrugged off. Her hands trembled in his, but having him there by her side pushed away the anxiety she felt.

Walter looked pass his wife at the younger man standing in the room. Peter was a foot taller than he expected. Seeing his own father's eyes in his, he could not help but feel comforted by the fact that his legacy was somehow being continued in the substitute son he reluctantly let go all those years ago.

Looking at the man now, Peter would never have mistaken him for his father. Yet all those years ago, he willingly went along with him to a world not his own. Perhaps he was too sick to notice the differences.

The two men locked eyes on each other for a matter of five minutes, during which time, Elizabeth left the room discreetly to give them a little privacy.

Walter spoke first after the awkward silence that fell between them had passed.

"Not quite the same is it?" Peter had a feeling he wasn't referring to the room.

"No sir."

Did he just called him _sir_?

Smiling shyly, he approached slowly with his hands extended in welcome, he grasped Peter's hand with both of his. It was all he could do to fight the urge to take him into his arms.

"Do you remember any of this?"

Peter took a good look around. There were photos of Walter and Elizabeth in their younger and happier times. All seemed faded now.

They sat down next to each other on the couch.

"You've come a long way, son. How did you find us anyway?"

This made Peter chuckle.

"To be honest, until yesterday, I had no idea I would wind up here again. It's been years since we lived at Reiden Lake."

"And here you are."

"Yes. Here I am."

Peter cast his eyes on the floor, searching for a way to break the ice.

"Look. I now realized you saved my life. I just wanted to know why?"

"Your father would have done it eventually. He is a brilliant geneticist. In fact, he did. I made sure you didn't suffer the same fate as... my son."

"How did you know I was sick?"

"My Peter was very sick." Walter became serious. "When I was at wit's end, I used a device I built to see into your universe. To my surprise, your father was busy working on a cure for your illness."

"You saw me?"

"I could not let you die, the way I let him die. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Walter expressed his concerns for the consequences his actions had on both worlds. He listened intently to Peter's detailed description of the decay he feared most. Learning about everything that had happened because of his selfishness, Walter wished he had heeded Nina Sharp's warning when it mattered most.

"I fear father has become obsessed by hatred. Of you. Of your side. Over the years, he has been all too ready to strike back, sometimes at the cost of human lives. He is not above making sacrifices for the sake of self-preservation."

"Failure is not an option." They both said in unison.

Walter half heard what Peter just told him next, as his mind was occupied with the information being revealed.

"By any chance, did your father call that substance he used 'amber'?"

"Wh-What? How... did you know?"

"We are not that different, me and your father. Except this time, the work belonged to my colleague, William Bell."

Walter pointed to a photo on the wall, one depicting himself with another man.

"It was theoretical science then and the last thing we were working on before he disappeared..." A realization dawned for Walter. "...twenty-five years ago."

The same thought entered Peter's mind.

"Do you suppose he is on our side?"

Just then, Elizabeth returned with a tray of cocoa.

_He-He-Help-elp!_

Suddenly, Peter pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes as if in pain.

"What's wrong?"

The concerned etched on Elizabeth's face matched the one on Walter.

"My friend..." he gasped. "She must be in trouble. How do I get back?"

Walter and Elizabeth exchanged a knowing look.


	8. How They Differ

"Olivia!" Peter didn't expect to find her in the darkness. She was _gone_. They had taken her despite his efforts to protect her. "I'm sorry."

There was nothing left for him to do except to confront his father. Taking heart to what the other Walter said to him, Peter must persuade his father to make a change.

* * *

By the time Peter got back to the city, things had gone from bad to worst over night.

The people march. They are herded en masse like cattle to slaughter. Most are dejected by their predicament. Many scared souls struggle to break free of their captors. Few succeed until they are brutally put down as examples of disobedience to the reigning protocol.

What of the rest of the citizens? Unrest. They will no longer standby while the higher ups ask them to give up their love ones. Husbands. Wives. Children. Fathers. Mothers.

And Fringe Division was there too. They are the last line of defense between the military and everyone else. It was their job to call in the first sign of trouble.

"Yessir," said the team leader.

Colonel Broyles then nodded at his two lieutenants. The order had been given. Mobilize the troops. They have to quell the uprising. The bloodshed was about to begin.

* * *

Peter made it past the crowded streets outside and entered the halls of Defense unopposed. Every resource was devouted to contain the angry mobs. He stood in the war room, not sure if his father had noticed him come in. It had been ten years since he set foot in this room. It intimidated him. His father continued to maneuver the miniature tanks on a map spread out on a table and barking commands into his wireless, as a counter on the wall marked the continuing drop in headcount. _His people_ has now been reduced to a mere number.

"You came back. Why?"

There was a slight hint of hurt in his restrained voice.

"_Why?_ This is my home. Did you think I was gone forever?"

Walter shook his head.

"Did you see _him_?"

"_He_ is not what you think. You two are a lot alike."

Walter slammed his hand on the table so hard, that it hurt.

"He is destroying us!"

"No, he's not."

At this point, he turned around and saw his son in a new light.

"Wh-What? What did you say?"

"Father, don't you see what this is doing to you? Does it not concern you what you are doing to others?" Peter didn't expect him to reply. "You've become a-a machine!"

There was an ear shattering boom accompanied by a shaking below their feet. And another. And another. Until the very mortar overhead started to shower about them. Time seemed to stand still when Peter noticed the ceiling beginning to fall. He just had enough time to dodge debris and shove his father away from the falling rubble.

When the dust had settled, the elder Bishop opened his eyes at the large gaping hole where the wall was.

Outside New York City was burning, set ablaze in anger. The smoldering cloud covered up the the daylight. Lady Liberty could be seen in the distance. Once it was a symbol of hope and freedom. She stands alone in the middle of the Hudson River in all its tarnished bronze glory with no admirers. Shards of twisted metal remained where her torch was.

Peter was already on his feet and making his way over to his father's side.

"It's all gone to hell," said Walter in a solemn whisper.

Putting his arms around his son's shoulders, Walter borrowed his strength to pull himself to standing position.

Looking at the scrapes on Peter's face, made it clear to him just how fragile his young life was.

"Come with me."

* * *

Having travelled all over the world, Peter thought he had seen everything there was to see. The cavernous room with cathedral ceilings he walked into should have belonged in a museum. The controls and knobs on the crazy dashboard was something from the Dark Ages. Then there was the freak show in the center of the room.

Encased in glass and somehow suspended was what was left of a living being, anatomically male. Tubes and wires connected it with the other circuitry that led back to a console off to the side. Parts of his brain were exposed and his eyelids were closed shut. Someone had the decency to cover him up below the waist, otherwise he was completely naked.

"We found him in this state twenty-five years ago. Dying." Walter flipped a switch. "He begged us to keep him alive."

Peter squinted at the figure. He looked familiar.

"This thing can't be alive."

"Oh. It's alive."

"How?"

"Apparent, he was a man of fantastic science." Walter looked up with admiration. "And now, he is more machine than man. The only thing living about him is his brain."

Looking at him again, Peter realized where he seen him before.

"That's William Bell! He's your alternate's colleague."

"He's from the other side?"

When no one was watching, the man machine twitched at the sound of his name.

"Why didn't you bother to fix him?"

"Until he arrived, that science did not really exist..."

"_Amber_... You depend on him to make the hard choices you can't make for the survival of our people."

The Secretary nodded. "His recommendations are faultless."

"Yeah. What's that based on? Pure logic? Where is the human component?"

"Don't you think I struggle with the lost of _every single life_?"

"Look around you, people are capable of taking care of themselves. It's not your sole responsibility."

Peter placed a hand over his father's chest.

"Do what he says, you could lose everything."

Walter Bishop agreed with his sons words silently. His heart had not been in it. He held his son's face with his hands.

"Our children are our future."

They stayed close together for a while longer.

"He's that smart? Does he know the secret recipe for Red Vines?"

"No, but if you ask, he will tell you how to get gooey caramel into milk chocolate centers."

Peter let out a hearty laugh.

"I didn't know what I was looking for when I crossed over... Looks like I found my father."

Walter Bishop did something he had not done in a very long time. Smile.


	9. Epilogue

Olivia Dunham lives.

After a few calls to his people, Peter managed to track her down in a holding facility just on the outskirts of town. He arranged to have her transferred to the medical ward here at Defense.

On the day Olivia was up to receiving visitors. She was propped up on three pillows, while gazing at him through tired eyes as she took in every word of his incredible journey.

"I don't think our meeting was an accident."

"I thought you didn't believe in fate. What changed?"

"I met the person who brought me home." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Oh. It was you, Olivia Dunham. Only she had blond hair down to here." He indicated somewhere below the shoulder.

"Is she like me?" she asked mid yawn.

"Married. Three kids. Works for a place called Massive Dynamic. Nothing like you."

Olivia turned over to rest her heavy head.

"I bet she's got some special powers to bring you back..."

That was the last thing she said before falling asleep.

Peter watched her peaceful repose for a few minutes afterwards. Pulling a blanket over her shoulder, he then leaned in and kissed Olivia lightly on the head.

"I am just glad that it's finally over."

_This is not a story about the end of the world as we know it. It is about understanding who we are. It takes love to show the HEART of an individual who is hurting everything and everyone, when that person is too blind to see. Did that love touch you?_

THE END

**I would like to dedicate this to DocH from for encouraging me to pursuing my own vision of the alternate universe.  
I am also glad that it's finally over. It took a long time to finish the story. It has taken over a month to get back my writing voice. Now I can read again.**


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